Cecil glanced down at her, noting the confusion in her expression, the way she was looking at him as though seeing him for the first time. “I do not trust people easily, Lady Penelope. And insulting my friend is not a good start for a relationship. Any woman who would speak to you that way is not someone I wish to be associated with.”
Penelope stopped walking abruptly, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Your... friend?”
“Did I stutter?” Cecil said, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, my friend. Despite your best efforts to the contrary, I find that I have grown rather accustomed to your company. Your sharp tongue, your stubborn nature, even your infuriating tendency to meddle in things that are none of your concern.”
“But I sent that letter to Jane,” Penelope said, as though she could not quite believe what she was hearing. “I interfered with your courtship. I ruined your plans.”
“And you did the right thing,” Cecil said simply, surprising himself with the honesty of the statement. “I do not want my wife to have any delusions about our marriage. If Jane was looking for love, she would have been disappointed. Better that she discovered the truth now rather than after we were wed.” He paused, then added with a slight smile, “Though I must admit,your methods could use some refinement. Anonymous letters are rather melodramatic, do not you think?”
Penelope's lips twitched – the barest hint of a smile. “I thought it was rather clever. And effective.”
“You would,” Cecil said dryly. “But perhaps next time you might consider a more direct approach. Simply telling the woman in question might work just as well and involve less subterfuge.”
“Where would be the justice in that?” Penelope countered, and there was a teasing note in her voice that came easily to her.
It was pleasantly strange how different Cecil was when it was just the two of them. No unnecessary fights or annoying flirting. He was simply a minor annoyance now with some quality of charm that Penelope did not mind.
Especially as she realized that he smirked around her more than he did around others... likely because he was more comfortable around her.
It was a strange discovery, and Penelope did not know what to do with it. She only hoped that it would not further complicate things between them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Several days later, Penelope found herself in a carriage with Cecil and Lionel, on their way to Ironwell Estate for the house party.
The carriage was well-appointed but close, and Penelope was acutely aware of Cecil sitting across from her. His long legs were stretched out, nearly touching her skirts. His eyes were half-closed, as though he were dozing, but she could sense the alertness beneath the relaxed facade.
“It is quite generous of the Duke and Duchess of Ironwell to open their home so soon after their honeymoon,” Lionel remarked, looking out the window at the passing countryside.
The fields were green and lush, dotted with sheep and the occasional farmhouse. After a moment, he added, “I imagine they would have preferred to enjoy some solitude. I know I would, were I in their position.”
“Godric is eager to flaunt his beautiful wife,” Cecil said, his tone dry. “I would have considered not attending if said wife were not my younger sister. As it is, I have no choice but to subject myself to their nauseating displays of affection.”
“Do not despair, Your Grace,” Penelope said sweetly, unable to resist needling him, especially when his eyes opened fully now, sharp and alert. “After all, this is a great opportunity to sneak your way into the lives and minds of unsuspecting women. To deploy your considerable charm and find yourself a suitable bride.”
Cecil frowned, and she could see he was sensing the teasing note in her voice. “I do not blame you for using my predicament to make jokes. After all, you have never found yourself searching for a lifetime companion. You cannot understand the pressure.”
“That is not necessarily true,” Lionel interjected before Penelope could respond, his expression equally concerned and fond. “Penelope did look for love during her first season. However, she gave up after her first few events.”
Penelope felt her stomach drop. She had not expected Lionel to bring this up, not now, not in front of Cecil.
Cecil turned to stare at her, genuine surprise flickering across his face. His eyes – those dark blue eyes that seemed to see too much – studied her intently. “Is that the reason you have not married yet? You gave up on love?”
Penelope shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. She focused instead on the passing scenery, watching trees blur past. “It is complicated.”
She waited for him to push further, but he simply nodded and relaxed against his cushions once more.
“Perhaps you did the right thing. Love is a foolish notion, after all. It clouds judgment and leads to disappointment. Better to approach marriage as a practical arrangement than to pin one's hopes on such an ephemeral emotion.” He said in a dismissive tone.
“That is easy for you to say,” Penelope shot back, her earlier vulnerability hardening into anger. “You have never allowed yourself to feel anything beyond lust and self-interest. You have never risked your heart.”
“And you have allowed yourself to feel too much,” Cecil countered, leaning forward now. “Which is precisely why you gave up so quickly. The first hint of disappointment, and you retreated entirely. That is not bravery, Lady Penelope. That is cowardice.”
Penelope's hands clenched in her lap, anger flaring hot and sharp. “You know nothing about what I felt – “
“Do I not?” Cecil challenged. “You speak as though you are the only one who has ever been disappointed by love. But at least you tried. At least you were brave enough to hope for something more.”
“And what about you?” Penelope demanded. “Have you ever hoped for anything? Or are you content to live your entire life in emotional isolation?”
